


Welcome! Everything is a little Kinky.

by snarry_splitpea



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: F/M, Public Sex, Size Kink, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-01-30 16:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12657492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarry_splitpea/pseuds/snarry_splitpea
Summary: Eleanor needs Chidi off her mind and might as well forget about Tahani in the process. She wonders how many points get deducted if she fucks a demon.





	1. Well, Here We Are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [appolsaucy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/appolsaucy/gifts).



> Spoilers for season two

She and Micheal had bonded. They'd forking waxed poetic about what it was like to be inherently bad while attempting to practice good and she'd almost fallen for him. Almost, because it was a subtle change. From fearsome angel with her future in his hands to needy demon with his future in her hands. Did that make him more like the guys she'd forked on Earth? Someone that saw her as worthy because he didn't know her well enough to run the fork away?

No.

Not really... because Michael knew everything about her. Knew her faults. Knew her quirks. Her kinks. Oh, god. He knew her _actual_ kinks! The ones she'd never even entertained with another being and were only evidenced by her tawdry internet history.  Which she hadn't had a chance to delete before she died. Eleanor wondered if anyone cared to look or if the people she'd left behind simply tossed her electronics away with the rest of her belongings and a beleaguered "Good Riddance."

In any case, she was in his office, again. Watching him lose his motherforking shirt over the last meeting with his boss. 

"Michael," she'd grumbled as he continued pacing and half-cursing at nothing.

He threw his hands up. Raised a fist to some omnipotent being and shook it. Then, looking apologetically at his own hand, Micheal murmured something about having to learn to be polite to the powers that be. Especially since said powers were going to be their only ticket out of The Bad Place. Eleanor sighed as she watched. Remembering the Micheal that had experienced a mid-life crisis in the span of a day and had actually been kind of hot with his hair gelled into place and a dolled-up Janet by his side. 

Was she only convincing herself Micheal was hot to overwrite her confusion about Chidi? NO! ...Yes.

Fork.

She couldn't even lie to herself, anymore. The morality training was obviously working, but it seemed to only make her feel bad. She definitely was trying to get over Chidi. That's exactly why she'd let a stupid idea pop into her head and rushed directly to Micheal's office. ...but Micheal was hot, wasn't he? No, not the stuffy angel he pretended to be. That guy was a big nerd. Probably an even nerdier nerd than the SUPER nerdy nerd love of her afterlife.

 _This_ Micheal was cool, though. They had so much in common! Morbid sense of humor. Glee over seeing others in pain. Anger at existing but a determination to keep doing it, anyway. 

 _This_ Micheal. _Demon_ Micheal, she could bang.

"Micheal!" she said, again. This time more clearly. His pacing was aggravating to say the least and there was no solution to be found in the endless circling of his desk-chair. He didn't hear her, though. Still rambling and hypothesizing himself dizzy.

She finally picked up a paperweight from his desk and tossed it at him. He immediately stopped and caught it. Staring at her with wide eyes as he gently placed it back on the desk. 

"Good catch," she said cheerfully as she held two thumbs way, way up in celebration. "There's nothing you can do to fix this right now, and I have a little favor to ask."

Micheal tilted his head slightly to the side, blinking at her as he considered her words. He cautiously conceded. "No, there's likely nothing I can do to fix this at the moment." His eyes then squinted. "...and if your favor has anything to do with that Stone Cold Steve Austin and Tahani clone Janet mentioned earlier, the answer is still no."

"Michael! We already know what happens when Janet makes a new person," Eleanor said as she shook her head at him, smiling as if he were the silliest being in all existence. "I was wondering if my new, fake, distraction-boyfriend could be... you."

Micheal squinted more, his mouth opening as if to respond and then shutting because what the fork would a response to that even be? Eleanor sighed as if ready to give up but then noticed the slow change in his expression. From perplexed to increasingly mischievous. Ah, there was that cool, demon Micheal look. "And why, exactly, do you need distraction-boyfriend? In this reboot, you haven't fallen in love. Haven't been dumped. Haven't had any romantic interaction with another human and definitely not one of the demons."

"Nosy nancy," she scolds jokingly as she stands. She's not sure if this will work on a demon, but it's what she usually does. Carefully rounding his desk with a slow sway in her hips and her eyes focused directly on his own. He stares back, not even blinking as she approaches him and presses her index finger to the middle of his bowtie, the light pressure she applies encouraging him to reclaim his seat. 

Micheal does fall back into his chair at the mild prod. Mostly out of curiosity. Standing over Michael with that single finger still extended, though not touching, Eleanor flippantly replies. "Doesn't matter. Do you wanna bone, or not?"

* * *

 

Eleanor laid down on a couch in the back of what seemed like a crowded nightclub. The people milling about and chit-chatting had to be a construct of Micheal's seemingly limitless magic.

Instead of verbally agreeing, earlier, he'd stared over at her with that mischievous little smile he was such a fan of and snapped his fingers. She'd glanced around in shock and suddenly the old fantasy came to mind. She loved videos of people jerking off in public. Women dancing raunchily up against men to inspire erections. Tawdry, secret recordings of back alley blowjobs.

As he settled in and got comfortable, she smiled over at the demon. "You know, if I'd realized you could do something like this without me even asking, I would have fucked you like 400 reboots ago."

"Are you entirely sure you didn't?" Micheal asks as he changes his clothes to fit the club a little better. A simple button-up and designer slacks with a thin, leather belt. He leaves Eleanor in the jeans and flannel she has on.


	2. Oh, You Could Say That

Micheal sits beside her on the couch. Not touching her. Not moving as if he plans to indulge her, at all... but the atmosphere is making Eleanor antsy. People milling about. A few backwards glances at the seated pair. The dance floor writhing with bodies in the distance. Micheal passes her a drink and she downs it, the burn of alcohol making the situation feel more real. Her empty glass refills automatically and she smiles at it instead of him. "Thanks!"  
  
"No problem, Eleanor."

"So... this isn't our first time?"

"For you, yes," he says as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, followed by the enticing scrape of his teeth. Her eyes zero in on his mouth and he smiles, broadly. Malevolently. "Usually, I don't tell you this has happened before. I let you try to seduce me. Your hand sliding between my legs and my face nervous and scared about what a human woman can do to this body I've never explored. You tell me how much you love my cock and eventually you're on your knees in front of me. According to Janet, this..." He grabs his cock through his pants and Eleanor can't help but drink in the sight of his erection straining against pressed slacks. "is your ideal cock. The one you never had but always pictured in your fantasies during life."

"So, you give yourself my ideal cock every time we do this?" Eleanor says, her mouth watering despite somehow becoming slowly opposed to the idea that Micheal knows so much about her when she knows nothing about him. She liked her secrets when she was alive. Especially when it came to men she'd taken to bed.

"Oh, no," Micheal says with a laugh.

"You see, as a... let's just call it a clerical worker, I didn't need one. For accuracy while making the neighborhood, I was advised to make sure one was available to me. Seeing as you're the only human in this neighborhood that even has an ideal, we went with what you'd appreciate most... mostly with the understanding that none of you would ever see it, anyway," Micheal says. He can tell Eleanor is leaning closer. Her eyes still fixated between his thighs as he simply holds himself casually. 

"But... Tahani?"

"Let Tahani keep her secrets. Tonight is about you, not her," He knows Eleanor's nosiness would usually make her latch onto the idea that Tahani even has secrets... but his insistence that everything around them is for Eleanor, is enough of a distraction.

"About me," she whispers absently as she presses up against Micheal's side.

"I usually let you get right in the middle of things before I reveal to you my true form... or at least, the truest corporeal form I possess," Micheal continues. "...but this time, I'm not in the mood for games. A few reboots have passed since the last time we tried this. I've developed a fondness for how... depraved you can be. It's rather refreshing."

Eleanor swallows, her eyes finally climbing up to meet his. He looks confident. Relaxed. Maybe even devious? There's something dominating about the way he looks at her. His arm draped over the back of the couch and knees spread wide. His gaze is unflinching and it makes her feel rather small, beside him. He's in charge... and she's never let anyone take charge in her life.

So, how is it still so arousing?

"True... form?" she asks warily as Micheal stares her down. Her eyes flicker to his shoulder. Head bowing slightly as if he's some predator she can't challenge by holding his gaze.

"Yes," Micheal says and she can hear the smile in his voice. "Tall, cloven-hooved, a bit... animalistic, really."

"That sounds disgusting," Eleanor whispers to his shoulder. Her head bowing more and shoulders drawing up as if she could pop out of existence if she made herself small enough, beside him. "...do you enjoy having sex with humans?"

Michael doesn't give her a real answer and laughs for what feels like minutes. Finally, he only responds with. "I enjoy torturing humans."

He snaps his fingers and her clothing disappears. Eleanor's head snaps up to meet his gaze, yet again, just as her arms cross over her body to hide the sensitive areas.


	3. Shirt, This is Getting Heated

"Ah, public nudity isn't your thing. You think it feels too forced and staged, don't you?" 

Eleanor can't manage to find her words. Her heart is beating quickly and instead of snapping his fingers, Micheal reaches over to press his index finger to her forehead. A light thump. Her clothes are returned but disheveled. The flannel top wide open. Her stretchy bralette tugged down so both firm mounds spill from the top. Her pants unbuttoned and thong tugged to the side, beneath them. She instinctively reaches up to fix her bra and Micheal taps her forehead again to send it right back into a state of disarray. Eleanor glares over at him and tugs it back into place.

It's a challenge, she knows. Testing how much she'll take. How quickly she'll back down and cancel the whole endeavor. She refuses to be turned away and wonders if Micheal knows how much his frustrating actions are turning her on. The men that lead her up dusty steps to modest apartments to pass her a drink and make smalltalk never made her blood boil before sex. Michael's desire to simply toy with her is making her writhe right in front of him. Heating her skin and dampening her still skewed underwear. She hates it and loves it. Did Janet also tell him what would _really_ turn her on?

With a laugh, Micheal thumps her forehead, again. Harder, this time. Patronizing and infuriating. When Eleanor draws her fist back, aiming to punch him instead of attend to her nudity, Micheal blips out of existence just as her fist connects with the back of the couch. She turns quickly to find the man is standing over her. Angrily, she shoots up from her seat to meet his eye as closely as standing on her tiptoes will allow. She's always been the dominant one! The one that toys with others, calls them names, and takes her fill of their less-than-stellar offerings. How is it that being played around with like she's just some dumb toy is making her arousal skyrocket just as high as her irritation?

Micheal fixes her with the same, creepy little smile and she finds that the small and helpless feeling his magical attention inspires is a full-blown turn-on. At least the man can't read her mind. Small miracles. Eleanor stands in the most intimidating fashion she can summon. Bare chest puffed out. Breaths heavy and deep as her shoulders rise and sink with her agitation. The man gives her a pitying look, shaking his head lightly as he clicks his tongue. "Are you done pretending you don't want this in whatever way I'll give it to you?"

"I don't like being forked with, Micheal," she says. Planting her feet as if concentrating will give her an advantage over this seemingly omnipotent creature. 

"Oh, but you do," he corrects her. He tilts his head with mild curiosity as his fingers slide up the side of one exposed breast. He grins as she shudders at the touch. "You've always wanted this and never found it in life. A... masculine figure that can truly overwhelm and overpower you. A man with tables you can't turn. What an admirable, little cockroach you are."

"Don't call me that!"

"Should I use the other word?" Micheal asks as he drops his hand and circles Eleanor.

The couch disappears to give him room to pace around her. She looks straight ahead, determined not to show him her fear. Especially since nothing has made her scared enough to run away. There's some sick satisfaction in wondering if he'd ever allow her to run. Could she take a step forward, right now, and be suddenly flung into a wall by the predator she knows Micheal truly is?

"Other word?" she asks in a whisper. Does he know what fantasies live inside her when men are kissing down her cheeks and sliding into her with such love and adoration? Does he know she's bored to tears and imagining angrier faces and harsher words?

"You have several. A few, you've even asked me to call you as you near your... carnal completion, shall we say?" Micheal says as he moves to stand behind Eleanor. The front of his shirt and belt pressed against her back. The cock he's hinted at, but not shown, pressing into her bottom. She wiggles against it and he chuckles. "Slut."

Eleanor freezes. There's a war inside her.

What she wants vs. What she'll allow. The only men she'd ever pictured calling her names were movie stars. Men far too rich and successful to be cowed by a little thing like her. The guys she met at bars? Her coworkers? That random cop that pulled her over for speeding and ended up too distracted by her offers to leave her with a ticket? Those guys had no right to think of her as anything but a gift. A hottie bestowing her riches to... what was that word Tahani had used?  Peons. No one she'd ever fucked had earned the right to even pretend to look down on her. 

"Disrespectful, I know," Micheal murmurs soothingly into her ear as one arm circles her waist. Eleanor squirms as if considering pushing him away, but falls still, yet again. "Whore. Bench. excuse me." He snaps his fingers, clears his throat, and tries again. "Bitch. You know, the usual words for what you think you are but refused to be called in life. Does it feel good to finally be touched by someone that knows? Someone who doesn't fear you? Who can do whatever they want without repercussions?"

"Micheal..." the word a warning that sounds like a request. She decides against speaking, again.


End file.
